


Firefly

by hotchoco195



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse
Genre: Buffy Wishverse, Character Turned Into Vampire, F/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She burns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firefly

She burns. There’s a passion in her like an open flame, and even as he touches her he can feel the fire scorching his fingertips. She bursts against his enclosing arms, too much to be contained no matter how hard he holds her. Her kisses are like a slap, hard and heavy and he aches afterwards. She could eat the world with a smile. Her eyes glisten at him in the darkness of her face and he wonders for the hundredth time if she’ll make him mad, or if she already has.

He loves to watch her dance. Such strength, such grace in her movements – she dances like she fights, all shadow and speed and sharpness. Her dark curls cover her face and brush the top of those bloody brilliant tits, always bouncing away in her painfully tight tops. Every male in the place watches, some boldly (or stupidly), some from the corner of their eye. She doesn’t even glance at them, completely caught up in the rhythm, in the music of a hundred racing heartbeats. He catches a flash of yellow eyes and knows she’s ready to feast.

He drifts towards the exit, looking over tonight’s selection as he passes through the crowd. She’s swinging her hips at a tall blond, beckoning him with a twitch of her finger. The poor boy looks like the type who’s more muscle than brains, and he sort of falls forward to meet her with a confused grin. She wraps herself around his awkward form, forcing his limbs to move almost in time with the music as she grinds against him. He enjoys watching her trap them like this – it seems infinitely crueler. She kills them with a kind of hope.

He waits in the alley outside, not interested in the minutiae of their courtship. He flicks the ash from the end of his cigarette and waits, hidden in the shadow of the doorway. He only has to stand there another few moments before she emerges hand in hand with the blonde giant. She tugs hard and throws him against the cold metal wall of the neighbouring warehouse, hands stuck fast to his face as she kisses him brutally. He can sympathise with the blond – those kisses are more than most people could handle. She twists her fingers into the other man’s hair, wrenching his head on an angle and licking the exposed flesh of his neck. The guy gives a little moan and paws at her ass in the shiny red leather. Her eyes flick to where he’s standing for a second as she vamps out, and then her hand is smothering the screams as she sinks deep into the jugular. The big man struggles for a second or two before the blood loss leaves him limp, dangling in her firm hold as she drinks. Half a minute later, she drops him to the pavement and wipes her mouth on her sleeve.

“I suppose I should take it as a compliment. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and all that.”

She smiles. “Cept for the part where he’s taller, and wider, and not so bleached? Two of you could be twins.”

“Hey! Don’t go getting any crazy ideas. Only one of me in the world love.” He saunters over and kisses her, licking the fresh kill from her tongue as her fangs prick his lips.

“He certainly didn’t have your sense of style.” She kicked the sweater-and-jeans clad corpse.

He takes her hand and they leave the alley. He can see the buzz hit, the insane smile that won’t go away as young blood courses through her.

“Where to?” she asks.

“How ‘bout a jaunt down by the docks? Pick off some drunken sailors?”

“Too easy.”

“And that last one wasn’t? Alright then, what would Madame prefer?”

“Something naughty. Let’s go find a vicar – I’m feeling a sudden need to confess.”

“Vixen.”

“You love it.”

He pushes her against a shop window and kisses her, hands squeezing the breasts overflowing her singlet. She pulls him flush against her, tongue halfway down his throat as a passing group whistle and jeer.

“Wanna quick snack?” He raises a scarred brow.

Her bright red lips curl wickedly. “I’d rather eat you.”

“Lead the way, pet.”

Faith bites her lower lip and drags her sire down the street, just another couple wandering downtown late.

*****

She was already turning tricks when he met her. Spike was meandering his way from LA to New York, having left Dru in the care of ‘Grandmummy’. He wasn’t interested in the processed food idea the Master was so wild about, and he certainly wasn’t going to hang around the court of Aurelius and make nice with Darla. So he was taking a scenic tour of the Americas and found himself in Boston. One night, having passed on several perky college students and a lovely group of trophy wives, he drifted into the danker part of town. He always felt more at home in the dodgy neighbourhoods, where the sex and violence and vice were honest. Angelus had been a huge fan of swanning about with the upper crust – he had a great sense of entitlement – but they always reminded Spike of the poncey twats he’d known when he was alive. A flickering sign promised ‘Beer & Babes’ and the vamp headed inside with a grin.

The booze was nothing to write home about, but there were babes aplenty. The waitresses were girls who could have found jobs in better establishments if they’d been of age, and the older woman singing half-heartedly in the corner had once been a great beauty. The whole place had that rundown feeling, as if it had sunk under the weight of the surrounding strip joints and gambling dens. Spike leaned back against the bar and scanned the room for something to chase the taste of bad whiskey out of his mouth.

“Hey there stranger. Don’t get your type in here often.”

The voice was so smoky he could almost inhale it. The girl standing at his elbow was a knockout, even if she looked about fifteen. The clinging red dress did nothing to cover her, for all it stretched from shoulders to knees. Huge tits, hips and thighs he could write poems about, pert little pout in a deep, deep red. She was wearing makeup to make herself look older, but there was no disguising the electricity in her gaze, dark chocolate eyes that threatened to swamp you. And a head of tousled curls – he did like his women black.

“And what type is that, pet?” he smirked.

She raised a brow. “Well I was gonna say good-lookin’ punks, but I’ll change it to the English. Nice accent.”

“And your type shouldn’t be here at all. Isn’t it past your bedtime, love?”

She visibly bristled, as he’d guessed she would, but he wasn’t sure if it was the question or the endearment that pissed her off more.

“ _No one_ puts me to bed,” she leant in until her lips almost touched his ear, “Unless they pay first.”

“And are you feeling sleepy?”

She winked. “Not yet, but maybe you can help with that.”

He drained the rest of his bottle and slapped it down on the counter, hopping off his stool in a rustle of duster.

“Lead the way then sweetheart.”

She took his hand and led him outside, hesitating once they were over the threshold.

“You got a place?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

She shrugged and led him down an alley beside the club. It was poorly lit by the red neon of the sign, but he could see her clear as day. She was absolutely stunning, far too pretty to be wasting it on drunks in dark places.

“So what are you into baby? Little handjob? Little head? Or are you looking for something extra?”

He tilted his head as if considering. “Something extra.”

He pushed her back against the rough brick and vamped out, sinking his teeth into her neck as he held her elbows against the wall. She tasted as good as she looked, young and fiery and some strange quality that reminded him of a girl long ago in China…

The shock of recognition made him recoil, and he realised she was shouting and swearing like a trucker.

“You’re no delicate flower,” he laughed, “But then, I knew that.”

“What the FUCK! Get off me, you freak!”

“Oh I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere in a hurry pet.”

“What the hell are you?”

He watched her for a minute. She was still fighting his grip on her arms, and maybe a little weirded out, but more than anything she just looked angry. Not your usual prey’s response – there was no crying, no pleading, no screaming. He’d never been one to play with his food (more Angelus’ style) but this girl was something different. She might be worth the trouble.

“I’m Spike.”

He bit her again, and she kept up the onslaught of insults for a minute until she went quiet and limp in his arms. He slung her up into his hold and headed down the alley away from the street, whistling. They could have a lot of fun together.

*****

Faith came to slowly, her head feeling way too woozy for the usual hangover. For a couple of seconds she was super confused, glancing around the strange room. It was obviously a hotel – it had the same sterile feel they all had. _Shit, did I fall asleep with a john?_ She cursed and tried to sit up, but her head felt like it was going to explode.

“I’d take it easy, at least for a couple of hours.”

She whipped around and cursed as her head complained again. Lying on the bed behind her was the platinum blond from the bar. He smirked and suddenly it all came rushing back.

“Get the fuck away from me!” she yelled, scrambling off the mattress despite her headache.

“Oh come now, that’s not very friendly. And you really should sit down for a while, love.”

“You bit me!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well yeah, vampire. I thought your generation was all up on the gothic stuff. Don’t recognize a demon when he bites you?”

She laughed. “Vampires? As if.”

He slid into game face and she almost fell over. He changed back and winked.

“Sorry to disappoint, pet, but I’m very real.”

She was quiet, clutching at the blanket awkwardly as she considered him.

“So what are you gonna do, eat me?”

“If that was the case, you’d be lying in that alley right now. You’re not a snack, love. There’s something delightfully…bold about you.”

“So what the fuck am I doing here?”

She looked completely unfazed by the vampire thing, but she also seemed smart enough to know he was stronger and faster. At least, she wasn’t trying to run, which was refreshing.

“Thought we could have some fun. You looked like you could use some.”

She snorted. “So what, I’m just here as your, your, plaything? Cos I’ve heard that from guys before, and it usually means they’re gonna have all the fun. And most of them didn’t wanna kill me.”

“I don’t wanna kill you pet. At least, not yet. Sit back down before you collapse and I’ll order room service.”

She obeyed but it was more from common sense than any fear of Spike. He pulled a sheet of paper from the bedside table and studied it carefully.

“So what’ll it be, my sweet?”

“I’m not your anything. And pancakes with lots of syrup.”

“Good choice. OJ or coffee?”

“Chocolate milk, if they’ve got it.”

He laughed. “You really are just one surprise after another, you know that?”

The vampire picked up the phone and started ordering what sounded like a feast. Faith couldn’t help admiring the gaunt good looks of the Englishman – sure, he was some kind of weird fairytale monster, and he had her trapped in a hotel room about to do God knows what, but he was super cute. The black t-shirt clung to some serious muscles, and apart from the bad peroxide job he was an out-and-out babe. _It might not be so bad_ , she thought, _he hasn’t killed you yet_.

Spike hung up the phone and turned to find his captive studying him intently.

“You alright, love? Not gonna pass out on me?”

He sniffed, and caught the tiniest hint of arousal. _Well! Someone’s feeling frisky after all_. But he didn’t make a move, simply leaning back against the pillows.

“So what’s your name, pet?”

“Like I’m gonna tell you.”

“You got anything better to talk about?”

“It’s Faith.”

He clicked his tongue against human teeth. “Very nice. And how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“No, how old are you, _really_?”

She stared at the covers, suddenly red in the face. “Sixteen.”

She expected some kind of shock, but he was silent for so long she eventually gave up and looked.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I was at that dump bar?”

“No. I know why you were there, and I’m sure there’s a whole tragic story to go with it. You’ll tell me if you want to.”

“Well, thanks. That’s decent of you. Considering you’re a kidnapper and all.”

Spike made to reply, but was cut off by a knock. He sprang up and practically skipped to the door.

“Hello mate! Right in here with that then.”

A hotel worker placed a loaded tray on the small table to one side of the bed and turned expectantly for his tip. Spike nudged the door shut and strode over, patting at his pockets.

“Geez, I’ve misplaced my wallet. Is it on the bedside table, love?”

The steward glanced at Faith and the vampire struck, sinking his fangs straight into the jugular. The girl stifled a squeal as the eyes staring at her in shock slowly turned blank and lifeless. Spike dropped the corpse aside and faced her, blood smeared across his lips. He was panting unnaturally and watching her with a look of such intense need that she completely forgot to be afraid. He crossed to the bed in two steps and pushed her backwards, pinning her to the mattress with his slim hips as he pressed his mouth against hers. He forced his tongue between her lips and the heavy metallic taste of blood almost choked her. She was more than a little disturbed to find a deep dark corner of herself whispering that in Spike she’d finally found an equal. Something about him called to her – his mischievous grin, his calm confidence, his style. He was like a snake that could strike at any moment, all suspended motion and hinted danger. She’d been with all your traditional bad boys (bikers, musicians, ex-cons and the odd junkie) but none of them had ever made her feel as on edge – as alive – as Spike did with one look. So she decided the best thing to do was wrap her arms around his neck and her tongue around his.

Spike crowed inwardly as he felt Faith opening up to him. She was responding to his touches with every bit as much enthusiasm as he’d expected. Even the newly-dead guy on the floor wasn’t deterring her as he unzipped her dress from cleavage to thighs. The abundance of goodness that was Faith spilled forth and he sank human teeth into the ripe curves and smooth flesh. She gasped and twitched her fingers in his slick hair. The vampire sat back and pulled off his black tee, lunging in again with his tongue this time, swirling it along the arc between her jaw and shoulder and trailing down between her breasts. She was pushing on his shoulders impatiently, and he grinned as he slid down further.

“No underwear, love? Tsk tsk.”

“Occupational hazard. You just gonna stare all day?”

Her voice had this tiny little pleading undertone that was delicious, and he grabbed a tight thigh in each hand and lowered his tongue to her clit. She gasped like she’d been electrocuted, hips pushing up against his restraining hands as he licked up and down her slit and circled the swollen button above. He wanted to take his time with her, but he was too turned on to concentrate properly – and besides, this one? There’d be loads of time with this one.

Faith whimpered as he moved back up her body, but then he was pulling off his belt and she could feel a fire of anticipation all over her skin. _MURDERERMURDERERMURDERER_ was running through the back of her mind but she was so lonely, and she needed him. She hadn’t even realised how alone she was until she saw him. Faith was a girl who never lacked company, but she’d never met anyone who could keep her entertained. Spike was like that light in the dark when you’ve forgotten the sun.

The vampire popped open his fly and pushed his jeans down over his thighs, still holding her down with one hand. She was looking up at him with wide, impatient eyes. Her ragged breaths were making those impossible breasts shiver, and he felt hungry like never before. Spike kicked the denim off the rest of the way and plunged straight into her wet core with a groan, Faith’s shriek half-smothered by her own hands. She curled her fingers around his sculpted arms and thrust against him as he pumped into her wildly, eyes forced open to drink in the sight of her. She was like an octopus, twining around him everywhere and squeezing tight. He rolled them over so that she was on top and she took off, riding him into the mattress with a strength that didn’t match her feminine frame as he laughed and held on for his unlife. With a throaty cry she came, shuddering as her nails bit into his pale chest. The mingling scents of blood and pussy in the air combined with her tight quim around his cock and pushed Spike straight over into oblivion with a choked gasp. He lay beneath her like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time, shocked completely beyond words, beyond thought.

Faith slid off and stretched out on the bed beside him, but not affectionately. Now was the time she’d usually be getting dressed and counting her money, but then she normally faked it with johns. She couldn’t imagine getting up anytime in the next five minutes – her muscles seemed to have turned to water.

Spike had vampiric recovery time, but even he needed a moment after that. He glanced over at the potential Slayer lying beside him with her eyes shut, and almost giggled. The girl didn’t even know what she was – didn’t even know what he was until he’d proved it. Where was her Watcher? Not that he cared. No Watcher meant no one would be looking for her, and he certainly intended to keep this one now.

Faith opened her eyes and found deep blue ones staring at her. Those eyes were so shocking, so wide and innocent above his wicked smirk.

“Well love, how much would you charge for that?”

“God, I think I should pay you for it.”

He raised a scarred brow. “Couldn’t agree more. But because I like you so much, I’m gonna give you a choice. You can get up now, get dressed, go home – I’ll even give you something for your troubles. I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never see me again. Or, you can stick around and have some fun. I’ll make sure you never need to rely on horny old men again. You can be totally free.”

She was quiet, staring down at the off colour sheets and wondering how many more uncomfortably clean hotel rooms she would have to see if she left now.

“I guess I could hang around.”

He smiled, and for some reason it reminded her of something she’d seen on the Discovery Channel one time.

“Excellent choice, pet.”

He lifted his arm and nodded towards the space next to him, and reluctantly she edged over into his embrace. He kissed her and she forgot to be detached. She turned towards his body, wrapping her arms around him as their mouths moved together, not as roughly as before but still with that same heat. Spike kissed her jaw from chin to ear, then worked down her neck, sucking hard on the thin skin over her collarbone. Two white points of fire like twin paper cuts, and she gasped quietly. It was nothing really, barely more than a prick and then a pulling as he sucked harder on her throat, and she knew this meant something important, something she was supposed to be afraid of, but it felt so soothing she forgot to say stop. And then everything was warm and soft and dark and she was fading away in a tight embrace until she almost couldn’t feel it anymore, and for the first time in a long time she felt truly rested. Something heavy and coppery was brushing her lips, and she licked them, and it tasted electric. The steady stream kept flowing into her mouth and she swallowed it, gulping it down as fast as possible. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted – not because of the taste, but because of how it made her feel, like she was waking up from a really good sleep, like she could do anything. Then the drinking became more difficult, and the dripping stopped, and there was nothing to do but close her eyes….

*****

He burns. Like that cold ache you get when it’s snowing out and it hits your face. Tiny ribbons of icy pain, but she loves it, loves the sting. He’s a tiger, or a wolf, a hunter with a broad grin who never bores her, never sneers, never wants to leave. She’s not the same any more – he made her something indestructible. He made her strong and fast and terrible. He gave her the violence she’d been crying out for all these years.

She loves to watch him. Doesn’t matter what, he does it with the same elegance. Lighting a cigarette, driving his banged-up old car, sinking his teeth into someone when they least expected it. He had style, and he was hers. His gorgeous blue eyes meet hers across the bar and she knows he’s ready for anything.


End file.
